White Clothes Stained Red
by acekissy
Summary: When Near cannot take the pressure anymore, how will Matt react to his death? The story is better than the summary. AU. Set in Wammy's orphanage. TW. Suicide.


**Please be warned, there is suicide and bullying in this story. **

**R&R please, I may end up writing more chapters if the story is enjoyed.**

**Matts POV.**

_No no no no no.  
_

I knew something was wrong the moment I came down the hallway. Nears room was silent, devoid of the sound of puzzle pieces or the gentle swish of fabric as he worked. When I knocked on the door, his voice didn't come.

_I don't understand why… _

I came into his room, thinking I wouldn't see anyone inside. Maybe Near had gone down to the library, maybe he had gotten to get a glass of water. Nothing could have prepared me for the horrible reality in front of me.

He was sprawled on the floor, like a broken puppet. His arms were limply at his sides, his legs twisting at unnatural angle. His eyes- which had once been sharp and filled with knowledge- were dull and unfocused. I fell to my knees beside him, tears threatening to spill past my own eyes. His wrists are stained red, the color clashing horribly with his pale skin.

The blood is in a pool around him, the color darker than I would have expected. His clothes and hair are stained red, so dark against his skin.

"Near! Oh god, Near!" I held one of his arms in my hand, carefully inspecting it. His flesh is cool from the floor, and I pray it's there before finally finding it; a weak heartbeat.

The tears flow from my eyes, and I'm forced to take off my goggles. I start to get up, to run, to get someone but a weak hand closes around my wrist.

"Matt… Don't go…" His voice was drained and weak, his fingers quickly losing strength as they clung to my arm. "Please…"

"It's okay, it's okay. We're going to get someone, and they're going to help you okay? It's all gonna be fine." I promised, gently holding his hand, careful to avoid his slit wrists.

"No… it's too late." He whispers, although I would guess that's as loud as he can force his voice to go. "Just… stay with me."

"I'm not going anywhere." I promise, leaning over him. His blood seeps through my jeans, warm but cold at the same time. I should be running, getting help. But I know as well as he does that there isn't enough time. There's too much blood on the floor. He's going to-

No, I can't say it… No, this can't be happening!

"Why, Near? Why did you resort to this?" A tear drips from my face, landing on his and slowly sliding down his cheek.

"Pressure… perhaps… or the bullies… It was all… so hard." His voice grows weaker, and his face is getting paler and paler. His fingers grip my hand, cold as ice.

He was always bullied, everyone picked on him. I tried to stand up for him, I truly did. But there were times when I couldn't be there, when I couldn't protect him. Between classes, or maybe when I was sick? It doesn't matter at the moment. I know that they'll pay. I'll rip their heads from their necks and burn the scraps, for forcing my friend into this. The thought of them causes my blood to boil with rage, I will kill them. I grip Nears hand tighter, and he whimpers a little.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Near!" I relax my grip, not letting go. He's white as a sheet, and it hurts to see. I can't let him go through anymore pain.

"Don't… call me that…. I'm Nate... Nate River…" He forces the words out, and I know this is the end. There is no way he would trust me with this otherwise.

"Nate… I'm Mail." I smile a little at him, more tears dripping on to his cheeks. He brings his other hand up, weakly wiping a tear away.

"Don't cry... Mello will be… first. And that'll make you… happy…" His eyes are fading away, focusing on a sky visible to only him.

"Not without you. It won't be the same without you." I whisper, holding his hand with both of mine. "I love you, Nate. I always have. It can't imagine life without you." I need to tell him, before it's too late. His hand drops down, resting over his stomach.

"I loved… you too… Mail." His lips curve into a small smile, almost impossible to notice. His eyes focus on mine for what I know will be the last time.

I gently press my lips to his, his skin cool against mine. It's a soft, lingering kiss that would have been enjoyable in any other circumstance. I feel what will be his last breath dance across my skin and I pull back. His eyes have closed, and a small smile graces his features. His hand goes slack in my own, and I cry again.

This time, he does not reach up to dry my tears.


End file.
